Rules For Dating My Former-Israeli-Assassin Girlfriend
by KathrynBee22
Summary: Set in a future TIVA world. Ziva finally is back in Tony's arms, but he finds that dating his former partner is harder than he thought. He takes a page out of Gibb's books and starts creating his own rules for them. Fluffy/funny short chapters;each about a new rule. Read my story "Coming Home" to see how I bring Ziva back, but you don't have to read it to follow this one.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Rule 1 came about in my story "Coming Home" so this chapter is particularly short. Read that story if you want to see how I bring Ziva back and Tony make Rule 1. It sets up the base for these little one-shots, but you don't need to read it in order to follow this story. **

**Also: obviously I don't own NCIS, because if I did Ziva would never have left! **

The bed was much too cold.

Tony rolled over to check, already knowing he would find it empty. He turned is face into her pillow and groaned loudly. It was still warm and smelled of Ziva. She couldn't have left too long ago. Tony felt the long fingers of sleep trying to drag him back down, but he sat up stiffly and defiantly.

He would not already break his Rule 1.

He tossed his legs over the side of the bed and shoved his feet into his slippers. It was still pitch black outside.

"Please still be here Zee." He said to himself under his breath before braving himself to leave the room. He padded quietly down the hallway, his heart sinking when he found the living room empty. Then he heard it, a muffled thud of a cabinet door shutting in the kitchen. Tony tiptoed through the living room with a boyish grin on his face. She was still there. She hadn't left.

Ziva stood with her back turned, holding a glass of water and staring out the dark kitchen window. Her curly hair was mussed from sleeping and her feet were bare on the tile floor. His apartment, so unused to female visitors that stayed long, somehow had been more accepting of her presence than he expected. She fit perfectly there; she belonged.

"What are you doing awake Tony?" She asked without turning around. He shouldn't have been surprised. Of course his little ninja could tell he was there without looking.

"Just making sure that you're still here." He answered, leaning against the door frame that led into the kitchen. Ziva turned to face him, her dark eyes heavy with hurt.

"You thought that I had left?" she asked. She could not blame him; she had left before, after all. Tony shrugged, still leaning against the frame.

"I had to make sure that you didn't break Rule 1." He said smiling sideways. Ziva tilted her head and leaned back against the counter.

"Do not screw over your partner? Or always separate the suspects?" she asked. Tony laughed, standing upright.

"Not Gibb's Rule 1. _My _Rule 1." He said as he crossed the kitchen. Ziva folded her arms over her chest.

"You have rules now, Tony?" she smirked. Tony nodded as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"And what is Rule 1?" Ziva questioned. She uncrossed her arms and rested her palms on his chest.

"To never let you get away again." He answered her, pressing her against the counter as he kissed her. He felt Ziva smiled against his lips.

"I like Rule 1." She whispered.

"I like Rule 1 part A better." He whispered back. She arched her eyebrows in interest. Tony's grin grew wider across his face.

"Rule 1 A: never stop kissing you."


	2. Rule 2

Rule 2: Ziva is always right.

Tony gasped as the wind was knocked from his chest and his back collided with the living room floor. Ziva was on top of him in a flash, her knees pinning down his arms and her hands pressing down on his chest.

"Ziva," he choked out. Her eyes narrowed darkly.

"Ok, ok!" He sputtered, struggling to catch his breath. She may be thin but Ziva David was almost entirely built of muscle and passion. She was not light.

"You're right." He mumbled, writhing beneath her but making no ground. Ziva released some of the pressure but her eyes still flash dangerously.

"And?" she asked huskily, leaning over him so close that he could feel her breath on his lips. Tony hesitated, weighing the cost of saying what she wanted to hear versus his current inability to breathe. Ziva caught his hesitation and leaned hard into him, her weight pressing onto his arms and collarbone.

"And I was wrong, I was wrong!" he coughed. A wicked, satisfied smirk danced across Ziva's face. She leaned back on her haunches and crossed her arms over her chest in victory. She looked down at him with fluttering eyes, waiting. Tony sighed in defeat.

"You're a great driver." he lied. Ziva smiled triumphantly and finally released his arms, settling herself comfortably on his lap. Tony groaned loudly and rubbed his sore arms. He made a mental note to add Rule #2 to his Ziva rulebook: Ziva is always right. Even when she is blatantly wrong, she is still right.


	3. Rule 3

Rule 3

Ziva was fast asleep, her bare back glowing in the invasive glint of the streetlight outside. This was Tony's favorite part of any day. And to think he had nearly been deprived of it tonight. Just a few hours ago they had been caught up in a heated argument, one that involved an upcoming visit from his father and many, many, Hebrew words that he was fairly sure were all profane. Yet now, in the stillness of the night, Tony wasn't even sure what the fight had really been about. He was pretty sure that he had started it, although Ziva's inherent stubbornness didn't help any disagreement. But at the end of the day, all it took were two little words, and a broken Gibbs' rule, to get him to his current state of bliss.

Tony skimmed his fingers over one of the scars on Ziva's smooth, tanned back. This particular one came from an explosion while she was undercover for Mossad. He had spent hours memorizing ever scar and imperfection etched into her skin. Ziva was a human story book, and he had made sure to study every last page.

He traced his fingers up from the scar to her shoulder blades and outlined the muscles he found there. A slight smile graced her lips, though she otherwise did not stir. He had lost countless nights of sleep just watching her like this. She was so serene and peaceful that he would almost forget her lethal abilities.

Despite the weight in his eyelids and the crick in his neck, Tony didn't dare move too much in case he woke her. She may not usually snore in the Earth-shaking way she had when they first met, but it didn't mean she was not still capable. More importantly, he wasn't quite finished savoring his secret moment of Ziva-appreciation. As if she knew he was staring, Ziva begun to squirm her sleep, adjusting her body closer to his. Tony decided it was safe to shift lower in bed so that he could finally join her in sleep. As he hunkered down beside her Ziva curled into him, resting her head on his chest. She exhaled sweetly as she nuzzled close, the same sound she made when they came home at the end of the day. The feeling of her skin pressed against his sparked a familiar fire in his rib cage. He wrapped his arm snugly around her and let the flames flood his veins until they cooled to a pleasant, content warmth. There was no doubt about it; Gibbs had definitely gotten one of his rules wrong. As he drifted off to sleep Tony added the amended version of it to his own growing list.

Rule 3: _Always _say you're sorry.


	4. Rule 4

**This one is longer than the rest should end up being. I got caught up! But I love this one 3 **

Rule 4

Car horns blared as Ziva drove maniacally through the city, in an even more frenzied manner than usual. She still thought American traffic laws were overkill, but she had for the most part learned to obey the most important ones. Today, however, was different. Today, such trifling matters such as red lights, yield signs, and speed limits would not slow her down.

She had just been about to leave for her kickboxing class when she got the text.

"Got shot. Bethesda. Hurry." was all that it read. Ziva dropped her gym bag to the ground as her heart skipped a beat. Working fewer hours at NCIS had been a healthy choice, but it meant one horrible truth: she couldn't always be the one on Tony's six. She had already gotten in her car when Tony's second text popped up

"I'm dying."

Ziva backed into the trash cans, out of distress of course. She fiddled dangerously with the Bluetooth that McGee had installed for her as she skidded out of the driveway.

Now, Ziva David was well aware that, were Tony actually dying, he would not be able to text her. She also knew that McGee or Gibbs would have called her. Then again, neither one of them would be anxious to face her ensuing wrath once she found out who let him die. She was sure, though it was never discussed, that they all remembered how she nearly shot Tony after he killed Rifkin. Were Tony dying…Ziva couldn't finish the thought.

She dialed McGee's and Gibbs' phones five times each.

"Damnit McGee!" she yelled for at least the third time, swerving through a yellow light and over a curb. After driving for what felt like days, but in reality was a shockingly short amount of time, she finally reached Bethesda. Ziva turned sharply, narrowly avoiding a woman pushing a wheelchair, and flew into the hospital parking lot. She double parked outside the entrance and ran through the ER doors.

"I'm here to see a patient, DiNozzo." She demanded at the reception desk. The ER nurse eyed the wild-haired, impossibly intimidating woman in front of her. She may not have been carrying her badge, but Ziva knew she was still quite _gifted _at getting her way. She placed both of her palms on the counter and leaned closer to the young nurse.

"…and you are?" asked the nurse asked in a voice that did not reflect the urgency of the moment. Ziva pushed her hands harder onto the counter to keep from grabbing her.

"His girlfriend." Ziva declared without hesitation. The word associated with his name still felt strange rolling off of her tongue. Usually she skirted around the term; today she clung to it like a vice. The nurse raised her eyebrows almost to her dyed-blonde hairline.

"_You're _Mr. DiNozzo's…" she balked. Whatever look Ziva had conjured up prevented her from finishing her statement.

"Right, ok then. Follow me." she said with a forced smile. She led Ziva past the desk and towards the rows of curtains behind. Ziva looked anxiously around each one, but Tony was nowhere to be seen. The nurse stopped abruptly and pointed towards a door, not bothering to open it for her.

"Thank you _so_ much, nurse," Ziva paused to read her nametag, "Adams." Her voice was so sugary-sweet Ziva was sure she had just given herself a cavity. Nurse Adams barely wasted her time with an eye-roll before huffing away.

Ziva rested her palm against the door and steadied herself. She had to be braced for the worst. She had seen too many gunshot wounds to count in her lifetime, but this was entirely different. It wasn't any agent, any victim, any target. This was Tony; this was _her_ Tony.

Ziva pushed open the door and was suffocated by a wave of shock. Tony was sitting upright on the bed before her, smiling. His arm was in a sling and a large, bloody, bandage covered his bicep, but besides that he was utterly unhurt. Ziva's widened eyes swiveled from him to McGee and Gibbs standing at the end of his bed. McGee looked relieved, almost to the point of boredom. Gibbs was quite clearly annoyed.

Ziva felt her heart begin to race as it did when she first got his text, this time fueled by a much different emotion. Tony's painkiller-burdened smile grew as she approached his bed.

"Zeeev—" BAM! The sound of flesh hitting flesh seemed to echo through the sparse room as she struck him hard across the cheek. McGee made no attempt to hide the laugh that burst forth from him. From the corner of her narrowed eye Ziva could tell that Gibbs too was grinning.

"What, what was that for?!" Tony sputtered. The stupid smile he had previously been wearing had been replaced by a rather depressing look of disappointment. This was _not _the greeting he had expected.

"You told me you were DYING Tony!" Ziva shouted. McGee laughed again, but this time he attempted (too late) to turn it into a cough.

"Oh…" Tony whispered. He rubbed at a knot in his shoulder with his good hand as the memory of his text came flooding back.

"Well I thought I was Z; it did really hurt." He said sheepishly.

"Don't you ever, EVER do that to me again Anthony DiNozzo, or I will kill you myself." She said in a low but steady voice. She would have smacked him again if he didn't look so pathetic. Tony nodded in submission.

"Ok, new rule. Rule 4: Never lie to Ziva. Ever." He announced, rubbing his cheek still. Gibbs's eyes rolled back and he fought the instinct to hit him upside the head as well.

"Well yeah DiNozzo, we've all known that one for years." He said. McGee nodded in agreement.

Tony's mouth still hung open, empty of words. The painkillers had severely attacked his sense of judgment; upon seeing Ziva he had expected sympathy and a sweet embrace. Instead, he got a slap and a death threat. He wanted to say something more akin to an apology, but even through the haze of drugs he knew that an angry Ziva was a dangerous Ziva. He should keep his mouth shut a little longer.

The door opened quickly and Nurse Adams reentered, eying Ziva's aggressive posture. She strutted by her and began adjusting his sling and checking his vitals. Ziva noticed that she leaned in just a little too close, and let her hands linger on his chest much longer than necessary. Ziva swallowed a growl; it was _not _a good day to mess with her.

"And who will be driving Mr. DiNozzo home?" the nurse asked, looking only to McGee and Gibbs.

"I will." Ziva snapped from behind her. The nurse hesitated a moment before turning to look at her.

"Very well then." She answered in a voice that mimicked Ziva's earlier tone with her. "I'll go prepare the release paperwork." Ziva again suppressed her predatory side. Flirty, uppity nurses were the last thing she needed to deal with. She looked back at Tony and saw he was rubbing his shoulder again. He really needed a less noticeable nervous tick.

"Boss, don't leave me alone with her." he whispered. "I'm scared." Gibbs merely chuckled, shaking his head.

"Sorry DiNozzo. You broke rule 12; you get to deal with all the consequences. You belong to her now." He said, nodding at Ziva. Tony's eyes grew wide and Ziva smiled satisfactorily. Gibbs made for the door, ignoring Tony's whimpers, but paused to rest his hand on Ziva's shoulder.

"Just try not to kill him Ziver." He added before heading out the door with McGee in tow. Tony gulped loudly. As the door shut Ziva let out a weighty breath that she hadn't realized she had been holding.

The painkillers were just starting to wear off, but Tony's mind still felt foggy. He knew his arm hurt like hell, and he knew he had royally pissed off Ziva by lying to her. The details were blurry.

"Ziva, I'm sorry." He offered, reaching out for her. Whenever they argued there was at least an 80% chance that it was at least in some way his fault. Ziva unfolded her arms and took his hand, allowing him to draw her close to him.

"I don't like it when you're mad at me." he continued as he wrapped his good arm around her back. Ziva found it increasingly difficult to be mad. In the state that he was in it was like being angry with a sick child.

"I am not mad at you Tony." She said softly, placing her hands on his shoulders. She was careful to keep her touch light; she wasn't sure exactly where the bullet had struck. She took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. It was true; she wasn't mad. She had just rarely seen her rock, her source of solace, so weak. Yet, beneath her palms she could still feel the live strength of his body.

"You're not?" he asked hopefully. Ziva shook her head.

"No."

"Then what's going on?" he asked. He could feel his body sobering up and his mind starting to clear. Despite the now increasing pain in his arm, his concern was focused on the pain painted on Ziva's face. She shook her head again.

"Tony I just," she began, but she struggled to get the rest of the words out. With a sigh she removed her hands from him and sat beside him on the bed, one knee bent across the scratchy sheets.

"I just do not know what I would do if I lost you." Her eyes were heavy, but dry. She was well beyond tears. Tony reached out and caressed her knee, running his thumb over one of the scars from their car crash.

"I'm not going anywhere Ziva."He said quietly. Ziva nodded. He knew she was not convinced; she may never fully believe it. He moved his hand from her knee to her cheek and directed her gaze at him.

"I'm right here." He said stronger. Ziva had been able to count on so few things her life. All that she loved, or could maybe love, was torn apart from her. Tony desperately wanted to be that something stable she so desired, and so deserved.

"I know Tony. But what happens next time, when it is not just your arm? When," Ziva cut herself off from saying the unspeakable words.

"Ziva David, do you really think I'm stupid enough to try leaving this world without your permission?" he asked. A sweet, sober smile was stretched across his face. She covered the hand on her cheek with her own.

"Promise?" she asked.

"Promise." He confirmed.

"Good. Because you don't want to know what will happen if you break rule 4." She whispered before kissing him soundly on the lips. Tony moved his hand on her cheek to the back of her neck and pulled her as close as she would dare go with his wound. If the nurse made any entrances back into the room prior to her successfully interrupting them 20 minutes later, neither one of them noticed.


	5. Rule 5

Gibbs was going to kill him. Tony had exactly 8 minutes to get from his apartment to work. It was a ten minute commute _without _traffic. He was a dead man.

It wasn't exactly his fault. On days that Ziva went to NCIS with him she was his alarm. The woman naturally woke up at 05:00 after all. Today, however, she had apparently snuck out of bed early without waking him to go for a run. By the time he had finally woken up he was already late and she was already occupying the bathroom. He had barely squeezed in time to brush his teeth and shout goodbye to her in the shower before running out the front door.

Tony glanced at his watch nervously as he waited for the elevator. His elderly neighbor Mrs. Madigan was staring at him through narrowed eyes; undoubtedly shaking her head at his disheveled hair and crooked tie. The woman had never been his biggest fan. As it turned out, the only person on the floor she disliked more than him was his loud, un-conservative girlfriend.

"Morning Mrs. Madigan." Tony said gruffly, using his best pre-coffee smile. It obviously wasn't very good. The silver-haired woman's hawk eyes narrowed even further, her face contorting into a look of chilling condemnation. Tony only had a split second to contemplate what he had done to so aggravate her when he heard the voice echoing down the hall.

"Anthony DiNozzo!" Ziva shouted from his apartment doorway. He turned to see her stalking towards him, fists clenched and hair dripping wet, wearing nothing but a towel.

"Where do you think you are going?" she demanded as she reached him. She stood so close he could smell her shampoo.

"…To work?" Tony answered, although it came out as a question. He heard Mrs. Madigan scoff.

"Rule five Tony." Ziva purred softly, though her eyes were still lit. She was staring him down relentlessly, and had apparently taken no notice that they had an audience. Actually, it was more likely that she just didn't care. Tony wracked his brain. Rule five…

"Don't waste good…" he said, knowing that it didn't fit the situation whatsoever. Ziva smirked. Her playful side was starting to break down the façade of anger she had accosted him with.

"No Tony, _our _rule five." She said. Tony desperately wished he had had time for coffee before dealing with this. He was late, Mrs. Madigan was probably going to file another complaint, and Ziva's expression was tottering dangerously between sexy and livid. Not to mention that her lack of clothing was completely obscuring his ability to think straight. He looked hopefully at the elevator for an escape, but it was either jammed or the entire building had boycotted the stairs today.

"Ziva, we don't have a rule five." He said quietly. He did not want Mrs. Madigan knowing any more of their business than she already did. Ziva's smirk turned into a full-fledged smile.

"We do now." She whispered. The words had barely escaped her lips before she pressed them hungrily against his. Tony's bag clattered noisily to the floor, drowning out the sounds of "tisk tisking" his neighbor was making.

"Rule number five Tony." Ziva said, pulling away from him just enough to speak. "Do _not_ leave without kissing me goodbye." Her breath was warm against his lips, her body still steaming from the shower. Tony swallowed thickly before he was able to speak; the thought of his neighbor standing behind them was forcing him to act as modestly as possible given the circumstances.

"There's one little problem with that rule Z." he said roughly. A wicked smile flashed in her eyes; Tony knew she had anticipated this problem from the start.

"And what would that be?" she asked, leaning back. She ran her hands down his chest as she pulled her head back to look at him, simultaneously pressing her scarcely-clad hips against his. Tony's breath hitched in his throat.

"Once I kiss you goodbye, I can't promise that I'll stop." he replied. Tony heard the elevator finally announce its arrival as he kissed his crafty girlfriend again. Mrs. Madigan entered the lift with a sigh so loud it must have hurt, but Tony was far too distracted to care.

"Tony," Ziva whispered, "I think that you missed your elevator." She said innocently, as though she hadn't been expecting it all along. Tony grinned against her lips.

"I think that I'll be calling in late to work today."

Tony loved rule number 5.


	6. Rule 6

Tony turned the key to his apartment with silent determination. Ziva would already be asleep by now and he was praying not to wake her. Startling that woman in the middle of the night could be, well deadly. He eased open the door and crept inside, leaving his bag by the door. Tony had rarely felt so much relief at coming home. He and McGee had been on a stakeout for almost three days; Ziva inexplicably didn't have to take a rotation. They both had a feeling Gibbs still didn't want to leave the two of them alone on the job now that they were together.

Tony slipped out of his shoes and walked in his socks to their bedroom to muffle his steps. It was too dark to see if she had woken up, but her breathing was still slow and heavy. Now came the hard part, getting into bed without being noticed. Preferably, she would wake up with him beside her and there would be a happy and unexpected reunion—they hadn't known when he would get to stop shacking up with McGee.

Tony should have known better.

The moment he pulled the covers back Ziva was upon him. She knocked him from the bed to the floor and landed on top of him, a knife pressed to his neck.

"Ziva! Ziva it's ME!" he yelped. Ziva remained on top of him, but she at least released the pressure of the knife.

"Tony?" she whispered.

"uhh huhh."

"What do you think you are doing sneaking up on me!" she demanded. Tony couldn't see well enough to make out the expression she made; but he could imagine it. It was terrifying.

"I was trying _not_ to scare you." He gasped. She wasn't pressing the blade to him anymore, but she still straddled him.

"Well that was stupid."

"Yeah, I see that now. Can we get up?" he begged. Ziva seemed to have forgotten she was pinning him down.

"Oh right." She carefully climbed off of him and sat on the edge of the bed as Tony flicked on the light.

"You still sleep with a knife?" he asked. Ziva shrugged.

"Well, yes Tony. You did not like the gun under my pillow." She answered logically. Tony shook his head. This had to stop. He would not be scared for his life every time he came home late.

"Ziva, I'm making a new rule. This one's for you, my little Israeli-ninja of a girlfriend. Rule 6: no weapons in bed!" he said firmly. Ziva's jaw dropped at the injustice, fingers clenched around her knife.

"Tony, come on, I am sorry that I scared you but—"

"No way," he interrupted, "this one can't be argued!" he said. Ziva shifted uncomfortably on the bed, weighing her options. She began to eye him slowly from the waist up, a sly smile on her lips.

"I really am sorry, Tony."she said as she twisted her ankles around behind the back of his legs. She reached up towards his chest and tugged on his shirt collar, pulling him down. Tony obliged her, leaning over to place his hands on either side of her. He planted a kiss where her shoulder met her neck; her oversized shirt slipping down tauntingly. Ziva let out a satisfactory breath and tried to pull him closer, her hand moving towards the buttons on his shirt.

Tony brushed his lips against her ear and whispered softly,

"Drop the knife first." Ziva released her grasp on him immediately. Her shock and frustration of having just lost were clearly displayed across her face. Tony stood straight again, waiting. Ziva hesitated a moment longer to see if he would cave, before it became clear that he would not.

"Fine." She huffed. She stood on top of the bed and hopped to the floor on her side. She slid the knife into the top drawer of her dresser and slammed it shut loudly before making her way back to the bed. She climbed gracefully back on and approached Tony on her knees. Her crafty, seductive smile was back in place.

Tony caught her arms as she reached up for him again.

"Ziva." He said quietly, dragging out the 'a'.

"What?" she asked in a much louder voice. She had not seen him for three days and her frustrations were growing stronger by the minute. "I put the knife away!"

Tony put her hands back by her sides and pursed his lips all-knowingly. Ziva stifled a growl; having somebody know you this well was infuriating. She turned away again, crawling over the sheets to the other side. Tony watched in awe as she pulled out two more, very large, throwing knifes from between the mattress and the box spring. She held them up for his inspection before placing them in the drawer with the first.

"There. Happy?"

"Is that everything?" Tony asked. He really did know her too well not to be suspicious.

"Yes!" she cried exasperatedly.

"Ziva."

"Well, _under_ the bed is alright, yes?" she asked in perfect seriousness. Tony was forced to finally laugh at the situation. He often had to remind himself that the two of them had extremely different perspectives on certain matters. He was going to have to compromise on this one. Plus, he had been away from her for three days, and she looked ridiculously irresistible when she slept in his shirt like that.

Tony crossed the room to where she stood, her arms folded stubbornly over her chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close until she reluctantly curled hers behind his neck. God, he loved the way she fit against him. She carefully kept a slight distance between them, waiting for him to either kiss her or answer her previous question. Tony knew she would not be refused again. He also knew he couldn't if he tried; he found that his fingers had already snuck beneath her shirt and were exploring the warm, bare skin of her back. There was no point in trying to keep himself from her anymore; it was out of his control.

"I think we can discuss the details of Rule 6 in the morning Sweetcheeks."


	7. Rule 7

**A/N: I recently re-watched season 3 and the episode "Boxed In" inspired this one. Enjoy! Also read my note at the end for a couple explanations.**

**This one's a little less fluffy, just fun :) **

It had been years since Ziva had cooked a meal for the team; she had missed the warmth that a room full of family sharing a dinner table could create. Ducky, Palmer, Gibbs, McGee, and Abby had all eagerly joined her and Tony for a home-cooked meal. It wasn't that the gathering was odd; the group usually spent every holiday they could together. But tonight wasn't a holiday, a birthday, or any special occasion other than a family spending an evening as one.

Tony was still, nearly ten years later, lamenting the fact that he hadn't been invited the first time Ziva cooked for the team, back when she first joined NCIS.

"I mean, come on, you invited the autopsy gremlin Zee! No offense Palmer."

Ziva swore in Hebrew under her breath; the complaint was a tired one.

"Tony you did not even like me when I started! Why should I have invited you?" she asked for the millionth time.

"But Palmer? I mean—"

"Jimmy was very kind to me Tony. And I did cook for you, eventually, if you remember."

"After I got shot!"

"It was a SPLINTER TONY!" Ziva said loudly, but without true aggression. They had been over this so many times that the rest of the table was laughing at their ridiculous argument. Except for Palmer, who was quite red in the face.

"Tony, I am so sorry if it makes you uncomfortable that Ziva invited me and not you." He said reassuringly. Tony pinched his lips together tightly.

"Ziva just needed to make some friends at NCIS, and I—"

"I am not _jealous_ of you Palmer." Tony said sternly. His entire body screamed the resentment that he felt over Palmer thinking him jealous. Ziva swallowed the laugh threatening to show itself. Palmer was still not satisfied.

"I just want you to know Tony, I would ne—" his sentence was interrupted by the sound of glass breaking. In his exuberant gestures of repentance he had swatted his hand into his wine glass. His body seemed to become paralyzed with shock, and quite possibly fear of upsetting Ziva.

"Oh, my…I am so, so, sorry guys, I—" Palmer began to apologize, his eyes wide with fear. Perhaps it was because of the wine, but Ziva simply laughed. The whole situation was preposterous.

"It is ok Jimmy." She reassured him. "Do not worry about it." Tony was mopping up the mess already, but Palmer continued to apologize profusely. He was such a sweet guy, but sometimes Ziva desperately wished he knew when to stop talking.

"Ziva Ziva!" chimed Abby from her other side. "My aunt Carol has _the best_ stain remover. Well, technically, my uncle Jordi was trying to make a new varnish remover, but it didn't exactly work out and…"

The conversation at the table was now dominated by Abby's odd family chemistry projects, and Palmer's enduring apologies. His "I'm sorrys" were getting louder by the minute. Tony turned to see that Abby seemed to have absorbed all of Ziva's attention. It was his chance. There was no way she would hear, plus she probably wouldn't even realize he had broken the rule. He had to do it now; the urge had been boiling beneath his skin for over an hour. He was going to lose his mind if he didn't just let it out. What did she expect anyway? A man can only do so much.

He went for it.

Tony leaned close over the spilled wine towards the still muttering Palmer,

"Red wine with fish? That should have told me something.*" He whispered in his best Connery voice. From across the table Ducky chortled approvingly. The sweet, immediate relief Tony felt may have been why he didn't notice Ziva stiffen beside him, or why he didn't realize that if Ducky overheard him then he hadn't been as quiet as he had thought. The relief turned out to be only temporary; his mind was already being taken over by the urge to break the rule all over again.

Beside him, Ziva had frozen temporarily in her seat.

"Ziva? Ziva! Earth to Ziva!" Abby said, waving her hand in front of Ziva's sharpened eyes.

"What? Oh I am sorry Abby. I just thought I heard—oh never mind. I think it is time for dessert, yes?" She asked, bringing the question to the table. She was rewarded with hearty approval. Tony rose with her to help, but she rested her hand on his shoulder.

"No need, I have it Tony." She told him, pressing him back down to his seat. Tony tried to tell himself that she didn't push him down just a bit harder than necessary.

In the kitchen, Ziva carefully contemplated the stack of seven plates and forks. She pulled the tiramisu from the fridge, before selecting six of them.

With a placating smile she returned to her seat. She could practically hear Tony salivating beside her over the dessert. Ziva handed the first slice to him, but promptly smacked his hand away as he went for a bite.

"_Pass_ it Tony." She instructed. Tony sighed as Palmer took his plate from his hands. Each slice was passed around the table in the same fashion until Ziva used the last plate, and placed it in front of herself.

"You're short a plate Zee," Tony informed her as he got up to get his own. Ziva caught his arm and pulled him back to his seat.

"No, I am not."

"But what about mine?" he protested, his voice slipping into a whine. Ziva jammed the plastic cover over the tiramisu.

"Rule breakers do not get dessert, Tony." The finality in her voice hushed the table. Tony's jaw dropped.

"Wha-"

"Rule 7 DiNozzo." She snapped, pointing her fork dangerously close to his face. Tony balked. Around them the table had gone quiet. Some were trying to smother their laughter, others were simply incredibly confused.

"Umm, guys, what's rule 7?" Abby asked. Having not known that Tony and Ziva had their own set of rules, she fell into the category of both amused and confused. Her bemused eyes flicked between the smirking Ziva and the now pouting Tony.

"Do we even want to know?" asked McGee. He understood the two of them enough by now to learn that some things he just didn't need to know—especially now that his partners were _partners_.

Tony looked down at his lap, his shoulders laden with guilt and the uncomfortable blanket of getting caught.

"No movie quotes at the dinner table." He mumbled. Ziva smiled as she took a bite.

"That is correct."

The team finally let out their previously restrained laughter. McGee was grinning wildly with Tony's apparent embarrassment.

"That certainly explains your relative silence this evening Anthony." Ducky said. Gibbs was nodding in approval beside him, smiling at Ziva.

"This is gonna be fun." McGee said with an evil smirk. He began to mentally search for any and all food related references he could taunt him with over future meals together. The opportunities were endless.

Ziva smiled sidelong at him, placing her hand over Tony's.

"You should see him when I make cannolis.**" Tony grimaced and clenched Ziva's hand for stability. The immortal words of the Godfather were threatening to escape over his sealed lips. She had to go and make tiramisu too***. Tom Hank's voice was echoing around in his head, bouncing off of the reverberating tones of the Godfather's tenor. They were battling for escape. Tony breathed in deeply, exhaling slowly and heavily. He would not let them win. Ziva had already withheld dessert from him; he wasn't willing to risk what else she might withhold if he broke the rule twice in one evening.

Rule 7 was not fun.

**A/N**

*** "Red wine with fish? I should have known better." –Sean Connery, **_**From Russia, With Love**_

**** "Take the gun. Leave the cannoli." –The Godfather**

***** "What's tiramisu? Some woman is going to ask me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is." –Tom Hanks, **_**Sleepless in Seattle**_

**Tony actually quotes **_**Sleepless in Seattle**_** in one episode, so I thought it fitting. **


	8. Rule 8

**A/N Oops, this one got a little racyfluffy…sorry I'm not sorry. Enjoy!**

Rule 8

Ziva had been waiting all morning for the perfect moment. It had been a slow, paperwork filled type of day, and the team was oddly quiet. Gibbs had finally disappeared a few minutes ago to speak to the director, and McGee had become so focused on whatever he was reading online that he had failed to notice the weighted tension in the room. Well, maybe she was the only one feeling the burden.

He must be some sort of medical marvel. Three cups of coffee in an hour and _still _Tony had not gotten up to use the head. Ziva twirled her Israeli flag between her fingers, pondering a different plan of attack, when he finally stood and stretched. It was time.

Tony was about to pay for breaking one of their rules.

Three minutes later, enough time for McGee not to be suspicious, but not long enough for Tony to come back yet, Ziva too stood from her desk. She contemplated making up a reason to tell McGee for her sudden departure, but it felt too out of place not to be noticed as a lie. Instead she walked slowly around her desk and out of his sight before bounding towards the men's room.

She strode casually into the bathroom without announcing her presence, as she had done many times before. Tony was not alone; she would have to wait. She began to clean her nails with her knife to pass the time. The only other agent in the room was Dornagett, who choked in surprise when he finally saw her standing idly by the back wall.

"Ziva!" he shouted, hastily zipping his pants. She wiggled her fingers in greeting with a crooked smile. She still didn't understand why the men in this building had such strong reactions to her entering their restroom.

Perplexed by her unexpected company, Dornagett quickly washed his hands and bolted out the door. Ziva laughed as she locked the door behind him. She leaned against it and let her eyes rest on the real reason for her men's room appearance: Tony.

By this point in his partnership with Ziva, Tony was unshaken by her using the men's room as an impromptu conference room. He finished his business, washed his hands, and waited for whatever it was she clearly needed to tell him.

"You broke rule 5 Tony." She announced as she slipped her knife back into its place. Something about her voice sent a chill down Tony's spine. It wasn't exactly an unwelcome sensation; it always amazed him how just her voice could do that to him. Tony looked quizzically at her in the mirror. If he broke rule 5, that meant he left the house without kissing her goodbye. That hardly seemed fair to bring up since they left the house together today, but it was definitely not worth arguing that point.

Ziva watched as he toweled off his hands, his back still turned. He was smiling at her in the mirror. They both knew she would get what she wanted in the end.

"So I did," he admitted, "what should we do about that?" as he spoke Ziva pushed off of the wall and sauntered to the counter. She carefully wedged herself between it and him.

"I think you are going to have to make it up to me." she growled. Her breath warmed his neck and sent a desirous lurch through his abdomen.

"Oh I am, am I?" he teased, placing his hands on the counter on either side of her, effectively pinning her in. Ziva licked her lips anxiously. They had teased each other like this for years before they even dated. Now, when they both knew the ultimate prize to be had, the stakes were much higher. She raised herself up onto her toes and gently nipped his ear. She slowly and lightly dragged her teeth down to his lobe until she reached the soft patch of skin just beneath. She gingerly laid a kiss there, and then proceeded to leave damp kisses down his jaw line. Judging by the rigidity of his body around hers, the shakiness of his breath, and the feeling of something against her that was certainly _not _his knee, Ziva knew she was having the desired effect on him. Unfortunately, her plan was beginning to backfire. She had innocently wanted a little time to enjoy Tony's lips, and to inevitably leave him regretting his rule breaking. That had been a silly wish though; nothing between the two of them had ever been innocent.

Tony's hands moved from the sink to her hips, and he hoisted her with surprising agility onto the counter. He no longer cared who lost the teasing battle. It was probably a tie, definitely a lost cause. Ziva wrapped her legs firmly around his waist when he kissed her, pulling him close against her. Somewhere, in the back of both of their minds was a tiny voice of reason that said this was not the best choice. But the voice was trampled out by their heavy breaths and frequent sighs of anticipation. Ziva groaned softly into Tony's kiss as his hands slipped beneath her shirt and caressed her back. She was not so gentle; with practiced hands she ripped open his shirt, although without losing a button. She loosened his tie but kept it around his neck, using it to pull him down closer to her.

Her hands had just reached for his belt when they heard the door handle turn. It was still locked, but the unwanted visitor was rattling it furiously. He then apparently kicked the door with noticeable force and swore loudly. The occurrence may not have stopped the highly determined couple, had it not been for the voice that followed it.

"DiNozzo! David! If that's you in there you have 30 seconds to get back to the squad-room!" Gibbs spat. There was no mercy in his voice.

Tony peeled his mouth away from Ziva, and removed one of his hands from her shirt to make a "shh" motion to her. She bit her lip to keep quiet, making Tony desperately wish he didn't find that so attractive.

"Or what, Boss?" Tony asked.

"You don't want to find out!" was the barked answer. Tony shut his eyes to try and stop thinking of the woman in front of him.

"Umm, assuming we _were _in here together, which we're not of course, what would we have done wrong, Boss?" Tony asked in his best voice of innocence. Even he knew it was unconvincing.

"You broke my rule DiNozzo!" was his answer. A shiver went down Tony's back, this one very unwelcome. Gibbs kicked the door again.

"20 seconds" he yelled. Tony gulped down his fear before posing his next response. There was really no chance of him getting out of here in any presentable state in 20 seconds anyway.

"But, you know, Boss I thought we had been over the whole Rule 12 thin—" he was promptly interrupted again.

"New rule! 52! No playing grab-ass at work!"

With his words Gibbs kicked the door a third time. He had never thought we would need to verbalize that rule; he had assumed it was a given. Apparently he had underestimated, or overestimated really, two of his agents. Silence followed his departure, and Ziva finally let out the breath she had been holding in and began to laugh. She unhooked her legs from around Tony's middle let them dangle at his sides. Tony took a strained breath and ran his palms up and down her the fabric covering her thighs, trying to slow his heart rate down. She leaned forward to kiss him again, which didn't help.

"I think we might need a new rule as well." Tony declared, burying his head in her neck. "None of _this_ at the office." He felt, rather than heard, Ziva laugh again below him.

"I am going to have to veto that rule, Tony." She murmured. Tony lifted his head to see her face; this was the second rule Ziva had tried to veto. She was still smiling that crooked smile that made his blood rush, and he had a feeling she had a good reason this time.

"Why is that?" he asked her quietly.

"Because I cannot promise to obey it." she explained. She kissed him again before gently pushing him far enough back so she could hop down from the counter.

"You are right though," she said, handing him his shirt and readjusting her own. "This does call for a new rule."

Tony buttoned his shirt with nimble fingers; at least he had learned to be a quick dresser over the years.

"Alright, well you vetoed my rule, so what do you propose rule 8 is?" he asked as they hurried out of the head. Ziva spun tightly on the spot, nearly causing Tony to run her over.

"Rule eight," she breathed, pressing him back against the door, "do not get _caught_ at work." She pulled away smiling, and started back for the bullpen without him. Tony remained glued to the door a moment longer in order literally wipe the grin off of his mouth. As he watched her swaying hips retreat he had to admit that Ziva's version of rule 8 was much better than his.


	9. Rule 9

**A/N WARNING: CHOKING HAZARD DUE TO EXTREME FLUFFINESS. NOT SUITABLE FOR READERS WHO DO NOT WISH TO HAVE TIVA LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER. **

**It's definitely more romantic than my usual writing, but I thought the story could use a little mixing up. I've got at least two more ideas for chapters, so while it feels like an ending I'm not done just yet **

**Enjoy!**

Rule 9

Tony was seething; the grey-haired man sitting beside Ziva had been whispering into her ear for nearly twenty minutes now. Tony had watched in a strained silence as the man leaned closer and closer to her, until his lips were mere inches away from her cheek. Ziva was still smiling radiantly, just as she had been all day, despite the man's proximity. She always could hold her own when it came to men approaching her. She could lure in a man with nothing but her gaze just as easily as she could send him running with a glance. Tony, however, was not so stable when it came to this matter. Even years ago he had only been able to make feeble attempts to mask his jealousy over other men's advances towards his partner. Today, he had been hard trying to let this one slide. He had tried to take the high road and leave the situation alone. But when the older man's hand slipped below the table, Tony felt his blood boil. He could only stand so much.

"Hands where I can see them Dad!" he barked out. Ziva's smile froze to her lips and her eyes flicked up to Tony's; he was glaring avidly at his baffled father. Anthony DiNozzo Senior raised his hands slowly with a pretense of innocence and a hearty chuckle.

"Calm down now Junior, I was only telling Ziva here how I've been telling you to marry her since the day I met her!" he explained. His scotch-rosied cheeks turned crimson as he beamed up at his son.

"Dad," Tony warned. It was true; his father had voiced his hearty approval of Ziva years before romance between them was even on the table. Tony also knew it to be true that the reasons behind his ardent approbation were less than wholesome.

"What?" Senior demanded, dropping his hands to the table. "I'm just saying it took you long enough to finally take some of my advice!"

Tony heard Ziva laugh under her breath as he clapped a hand to his forehead. The unfamiliar feeling of the cool metal band around his finger pressed against his forehead brought an unstoppable smile to his face. No, he would not let his father ruin this day. He had ruined too many important moments in his life; this would not be one of them. This called for a new rule.

Rule 9: Keep Anthony DiNozzo Senior far, far away from Ziva.

"Fine Dad, if you won't leave my wife alone I'll have to steal her away myself." He said. Ziva patted her new father-in-law on the shoulder as she accepted Tony's hand; he hastily pulled her to the dance floor and away from his father.

"They're playing our song, Sweetcheeks." He quoted himself, twirling her into his arms and drawing her close. He smiled as she shut her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. When they had just been partners, it was such a rare gesture of emotion from her that he had learned to relish the simple act. He pressed a kiss to her temple, and let his mind drift away. The night was just on the verge of tiring itself out. The energy of the guests had started to melt from that of exuberant celebration to a calm reverie. The alcohol had been drunk, the dance floor abused, and the cake destroyed and enjoyed. Nothing was left but for the onlookers to gaze at the couple's bliss, trying to sneak a glimpse into their secluded and mysterious little world.

Tony looked down at the beautifully complicated woman in his arms. All these years and she could still make his blood rush. Although he could feel her heart beat, smell her perfume, and hear her steady breath, he was having trouble remembering that it was all real. A part of him thought the day would never come. For a long time, after the fiasco with Wendy, he had given up the hope of marriage; after Jeanne he had largely given up on being in love, and then Ziva came along…and confused the hell out of him. He couldn't pinpoint the day he had realized he loved his partner; it had been such a gradual and honest love that neither one of them could begin to argue when it had started. In a way, it had always been there, they just hadn't been willing to see it or ready for it to happen. He could, however, say with accuracy the day he had honestly decided to take a break with the romance world. It was the day they had parted in Tel Aviv. He could also say to the hour when his faith in his future matrimony had been restored; it had been the moment she walked back into his life. Well really, in true Ziva fashion, she had just walked right back into his apartment, unannounced and uninhibited.

They had discussed eloping dozens of times, and came damn close to doing so twice. But in the end they decided that they needed their family there. Gibbs, Abby, McGee, Ducky, and even the autopsy gremlin, were pivotal characters in their story. They deserved to see the day finally come. Not to mention, Abby had cut Tony in on part of the killing she had made by betting on their relationship.

Tony twirled Ziva out and away from him to admire her for a moment. He was still reeling over how incredible she looked. Sure, it wasn't exactly breaking news that Ziva David was beautiful. He had known that since the day they met, though he would never have admitted it then. Still, he had to admit that he had partially expected her to look out of place in such a traditional affair, the inextinguishable vigor of Ziva shoved into a frilly white box of a wedding. Nothing about their relationship had ever been traditional. Thankfully, their wedding day had ended up being just as unconventional. The ceremony itself was a lovely, albeit confusing at times, mishmash of Jewish and Catholic traditions. There was a hodgepodge of Hebrew and Latin, glassware shattered and cake smashed. There were also a few, unavoidable oddities that added to the day's unique flair. These included, but were not limited to, the maid of honor wearing black platform boots, the vows of the groom being largely stolen from cinematic classics, the bride being a former Mossad assassin, and the very unspoken truth of it being the stand-in father of the bride's fifth time down the aisle.

Ziva said it perfectly represented them.

Soon after he proposed, Tony discovered he was not the only hesitant about a big ceremony; Ziva too had had her reservations. In fact it had been she who had first posed the option of eloping. She was rather uncomfortable with a few of the wedding components, specifically the dress.

"_Tony, I do not know about this whole wedding dress thing." She said exasperatedly, weeks before the wedding. Abby had been dragging her out dress shopping for months now, but there had been little to show for her efforts. Today's endeavor had apparently been no different from the rest. _

"_Ziva, it's part of the whole wedding deal. Pretty girl, pretty dress, handsome groom, and cake. You can't take out one of the key ingredients!" Tony cried. Ziva shook her head stubbornly. _

"_I feel like a shark out of the water Tony." She sighed. Tony swallowed his laughter; this was not a time to laugh at _her_ English._

"_Fish, Ziva."_

"_What? You just told me yesterday you want chicken. You cannot-"_

"_No, Z, It's a fish out of water. There's a shark _in_ the water." He explained. Ziva's brow knotted in thought. Now she was cranky _and _confused. He was in hot water, but was careful not to confuse her with that particular expression just then. _

"_But the shark would eat the fish, yes?" she asked. As usual, her logic behind her versions of English idioms was frustratingly hard to argue with._

"_Umm, I think they're in different waters Ziva." _

"_Oh. Well I would still rather be the shark." She declared. _

"_Fine. You are the shark." He relented, reminding himself of rule two.  
"But you get to tell Abby that after all her hard work you're not wearing a wedding dress." He said. Ziva's haughty expression faltered. Tony grinned triumphantly _

"_You're gonna be the prettiest shark-bride that's ever lived." _

Abby's relentless determination at transforming Ziva into a bride had been a success after all. Ziva had been perfect. Her smile was a reckless, uninhibited one, so rarely seen on her face. It was Tony's favorite of her smiles. While she did eventually succeed in finding a striking, no-nonsense dress that even she admitted she didn't mind, Tony knew that in a few months he wouldn't remember the dress. He wouldn't remember the food that they spent months deciding on, the color of the flowers he still couldn't pronounce, or the obscene cost of it all. He would, however, remember that smile.

Tony looked back down at his bride and found that this time he had been caught staring.

"What are you thinking about Tony?" she asked softly, sensing that his mind was elsewhere. Tony smiled; there were so many things rushing through his head that he didn't know where to start. He decided shark-bride might not be the best thing to bring up again, so he chose to tell her the other memory flickering in his mind.

"Berlin." He said. Ziva lifted her head off of his shoulder in surprise.

"Berlin?" she repeated. Tony nodded. He brought his head down next to hers and rested cheek to cheek with her.

"Of dancing with you." He whispered. He could feel her cheek pull into a smile of recognition.

"I finally got to imagine a day where we could dance together, just like this."

Ziva pulled her head away again, her eyebrows raised in skepticism.

"Tony, I do not believe that you wanted to marry me when we went to Berlin." She said with the slightest hint of a laugh. She was not offended, but trying to call his bluff. Tony rolled the thought over in his mind. He certainly wouldn't have been _opposed _to the idea. But she was right of course; he hadn't exactly been thinking it yet.

"No, maybe not," he agreed. "But I did let myself picture what it could be like to dance with you outside of a mission, without the danger or the target, just, to dance."

Ziva didn't respond. Instead she adjusted her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer so that she could rest her head on his chest.

"And what are you thinking of down there?" he asked, prompted by her silence.

"Family. She said softly. Tony stayed quiet, waiting for her to express the thoughts she was trying to repress.

"My father." She continued a moment later. Tony let the chill of her anguish flash through his body. He knew that his father was a poor substitute for anyone; and while Gibbs had been there to give Ziva away, Tony knew Ziva was silently grieving. Despite Eli's many flaws, no woman should have to go to their wedding without her father. In Ziva's case, she went to her wedding with no blood related family whatsoever.

"We had been though, unthinkable things, but still, I wish that he were here for this." She said with a quiet sigh. In her voice there was no risk of tears; Tony could tell this was a long ago processed thought.

"I'm so sorry Ziva." He said, kissing her forehead again.

"He used to dance with me like this." she continued, lifting her head to see his face. "When I was little I would stand on his shoes and he would dance me all through the room. He told me once, that one day I would dance with a man who deserved my love." Her left hand grazed the side of his face; she gently ran her thumb over his cheekbone.

Tony's eyes searched hers for more. She was oddly calm in her nostalgia, pensive more than distressed.

"So?" he asked her, raising his chin for evaluation. "Would he think me deserving of you?"

Ziva let out a breathy but full laugh, causing a disappointed glare from Tony.

"Not so many years ago, no." she said, the ring of laughter still in her voice. "But, eventually, yes. He understood how much you meant to me. He knew how you had saved me, in more ways than one."

Tony removed the hand that still lingered on his cheek and pressed a kiss to her palm.

"I love you Ziva." He told her, slowing their dance as the song was ending. Ziva smiled up at him again; he loved knowing that he was the cause of those smiles.

"I know Tony. That is why you are my family now. You are all that I need, and more."

For what had to be the hundredth time that day, Tony leaned down to kiss his new wife. He briefly acknowledged that the guests had to be growing tired of seeing their affections; Gibbs certainly was. But Tony knew he had a duty now. He would spend the rest of his life trying to prove to Ziva that she, in fact, had saved him.


End file.
